


changing the world to be ours

by bookwormyangel



Category: Hairspray (2007)
Genre: F/M, Greatest Showman AU, Vignettes, trink heavy, zac/nikki version but it could be any of them if you really want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 20:31:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19216984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwormyangel/pseuds/bookwormyangel
Summary: greatest showman au. link's pov.The Corny Collins Show: a spectacle of Baltimore’s most unusual! Shows every day, 25¢Link Larkin never thought he'd end up here.





	changing the world to be ours

_The Corny Collins Show_

_A spectacle of Baltimore’s most unusual!_

_Shows every day, 25¢_

_i._

 

“You already have money, but do you enjoy this high life of yours? Parties and plays, repeat?”

   


There was a twinkle in the man’s eyes, and Link smirked. “If I were to be seen with you, I’d be a laughing stock.”

 

Corny leaned back, tapping his fingers on his glass. “Maybe. But you’d sure as hell be the happier for it. I know your type.” He said it so nonchalantly, the smirk on his lips growing.

 

Link sipped his drink, a tingle at the back of his throat. It was true, he was bored, looking for something, anything, a change of scenery. Going with Corny, while entirely new and tempting, would cost him everything he had already built: his name, his reputation. His money. Link tossed back the rest of his drink, the burn making him shake.

 

“I’ll do it for 18%.”

 

Corny sat up straighter, pushing his glass down the bar. The bartender immediately replaced it and Corny shot it back just as quickly “7%.”

 

“50%.”

 

Corny quirked his eyebrows, “15%.”

 

“I’d do 8%.”

 

“12%,” Link shot back his drink.

 

“Maybe 9%.”

 

“10%,” the pair said synonymously.  

 

Link smirked. Corny smiled.

 

_ii._

   


Corny was practically running through the building, bounding up stairs and rounding around corners faster than Link could keep up, even on his trained legs. Everything Corny was saying was going through Link’s ears faster than he could keep up, introducing people left and right, stopping to give instructions, never missing a single step. It was obvious he was built for this kind of life.

 

Link was looking around, his feet propelling him forward as he followed without paying attention. Head titled, taking in the bright colors and raucous noise, Link followed dutifully as Corny clambered up rickety stairs.

Corny peaked between two plush red curtains before pushing them aside and leading Link onto a small balcony. Overlooking the entirety of the building, Link could see how huge the crowds actually were, much larger than he had anticipated, and the noise was deafening. Sand from the ring in the middle of the floor was scattered outside the edge from all the performances, and Link had to blink against the surprisingly bright light in the room.

 

Against his rapid blinking, he almost missed the sight that swung up to greet him. A girl, all curves, whooshing hair, and wide eyes appeared and disappeared just as quickly. Link stepped towards the edge of the balcony, watching as tight pink fabric caught the light, making the girl shine. His eyes followed her, time seeming to slow, but Corny still had a hold on him and the pair passed once more through the red curtains before he could protest.

 

Link’s breath was caught in his throat, like he was the one flying through the air. “Who was that?” he asked, forcing his voice to be steady.

 

“Miss Tracy Turnblad,” Corny said easily, a small smile on his lips as he and Link quickly descended the stairs. “She’s our best trapeze artist, works here with her mother, Ms Edna.”

 

At the edge of the stairs, Link peeked around the edge of the curtains. Trying to stay out of sight of the audience, he watched as Tracy leaped from her hoop, catching it before it could swing away from her. Her small feet, padded with some kind of gold colored socks that snaked up her calves, sent sand flying in a small circle as the crowds clapped. She took a small bow, face flushed, and bounded out of the ring, the audience still cheering.

 

“Mr Collins!” Tracy was practically running towards them, her short legs making it difficult to keep up with the action all around them. Her pink outfit was tight, hugging her body in ways that made Link heat up. The front was sheer, wrapping around her neck and revealing her freckled shoulders, and plunging down midway. Frills brushed the tops of her thighs and Link had to avert his eyes from the peachy flesh. She clapped her hands, a white cloud of chalk following in her wake.

 

“Tracy! This is the newest recruit, Link Larkin,” he said, gesturing to the boy beside him.

 

The girl smiled, freckles dancing in the light and curled hair falling over her shoulders as she looked up at him. “Nice to meet you, Mr Larkin.”

 

“Link, please, darlin’.” Out of habit, he winked as he reached his hand out. Surprised at his own smoothness, he could feel the blush climbing up the back of his neck as Tracy giggled. She quickly pat her hands against her thighs, though it didn’t do much but leave pale hand prints, before grasping Link’s. His eyes flashed quickly to the flesh, and Link caught himself wondering what it would be like to touch that skin.

 

“And what’s your talent, Link?”

 

For a minute Link forgot about conversation, the give and take of the action. He had never been so caught off guard by a woman before. Thoughts scrambling, Link clasped his hands behind his back before responding. “I’ve dabbled in performance,” he started. “But I’m here strictly as a partner.” He was impressed with the levelness of his tone.

 

Tracy’s smiled broadened, and she nodded her head, brown curls dancing. “Nothing saying you can’t try both.” For once in his life, Link was speechless as Tracy waved, walking away and into a waiting group.   

 

_iii._

 

The longer Link spent on the Corny Collins Show, the quicker he adapted to the uniqueness of the people he suddenly found himself around. There was Seaweed, who weighed only 50 pounds and was affectionately termed the Skeleton Man, his little sister Inez, standing at almost 27 inches, and Penny Pingleton, who had four legs. Tracy’s mother, Edna, was known as the Bearded Lady, though Link learned quickly there was more to Ms Edna than the beard.

 

He found himself gravitating to Tracy. When he wasn’t working with Corny or getting lost in the building, Link was glued to Tracy’s side. There was a simplicity to being with her that Link had never experienced; it felt natural. And he never grew board of her routine, watching her catapult through the air, twisting and twirling despite her weight and small stature. It never failed to leave Link breathless.

 

But this was a show of spectacles, and Tracy was not immune to the hatred. Since Link had arrived, he came face to face with the angry citizens of Baltimore, claiming there was no place for “freaks like that.” It made Link seethe, but Corny told him it was like a coin toss: people either wanted to see what they couldn’t explain or that they hated it because they didn’t understand it.

 

For their credit, everyone mostly let it roll of their shoulders; they had been experiencing it for most of their lives, Link supposed, but what did he know? He watched as Corny interacted with protesters and mobs; he was calm, but there was an edge to his voice that made men’s mouths turn and their faces pinch.

 

“There ain’t no place here in Baltimore for the likes of _you_!” a man sneered one night, spittle dangling from his mouth as the troupe made their way back to the building after a night of celebration. Link and Corny rushed from the building, watching as their friends were jostled and shoved. Corny tried to break his way through the crowd, but it was large, larger than Link had seen at the doors before.

 

Looking over heads and shoulders, stretching his neck, Link could see the very top of Tracy’s head. She was flush, her hair tousled and escaping the band she used to push it back. Her hand was tight around Penny’s arm, who stood angled in front of Seaweed, buffeting the rush of the crowd against his small body. Inez was gripping Tracy’s skirt, and Tracy had her other arm wrapped around the girl tightly. Ms Edna was at the front of the ambush, pushing men aside with a disgusted look on her face.

 

Link found an opening and darted around several mobsters as Corny was yelling at another. His eyes tracked Tracy, staying on her hair as he shoved his way to her. The crowd smelled, all or most of them drunk, and their yelling was reverberating in Link’s ears. His feet splashed in stagnant rain puddles, and when he diverted his attention away from Tracy for a slim second, he lost her.

 

There was a moment of panic swelling in his chest. She couldn’t have gone far, this crowd was tight and angry, fists punching the air in all directions. Twisting, Link once again craned over the crowd, eyes searching, but he didn’t have to search for very long.

 

There was a shrill cry and a splash, and Link knew it was Tracy. Pushing aside one large man with a drink in his hand, Link stumbled into the line of fire. The mob had broken up the Corny Collins troupe and Link saw that Penny was the one gripping Inez and Seaweed was talking hurriedly into her ear.

 

Link felt his heart stutter as he stumbled to the side, pushing his way through more hot bodies. Tracy was on the ground, Link almost tripping over her. Covered in mud, she was shielding her face from people’s feet. They didn’t care that she was down there, kicking out, searching for somewhere to land.

 

“You like that, huh, fat whale?!” a man shouted, sneering as he looked down his nose at the prone girl. Tracy tried to stand, but a hand reached out for her shoulder and shoved her back down. “How d’you even manage to stay in the air? Not break the building!”

 

Tracy’s face was red, her eyes pinched. Link hadn’t seen that look in her eyes before, but he knew anger when he saw it. “Hey!” Link shouted at the man, marching his way to his side. “You don’t talk to ladies like that,” he seethed, trying to keep his tone steady and voice level like Corny.

 

The man barked a laugh, “A lady! I don’t see no lady here.”

 

Without thinking, Link threw a punch, his fist landing squarely on the man’s nose. Warm blood gushed out, spraying on Link’s fist. The man’s head whipped back, and he grunted. Link made a mad grab for Tracy, lifting her to her feet and pulling her away from the crowd and to the sanctuary of the building.

 

“Agh, fuckin’ whale lover!” the man shouted at Link’s back, words garbled through his blood. Link was about to turn around, all of Corny’s warnings thrown from his head, but Tracy’s hand in his tightened and she tugged, pulling the both of them over to Corny. “He’s not worth it, Link,” she said, eyes trained in front of her.

 

“He shouldn’t be talkin’ to you that way, Trace,” he responded. “No one should.”

 

She smiled sadly, eyes flitting over to him. “It’s nothing new.”

 

Link’s mouth was open to respond, refute her, but Corny roped them into his arms and practically shoved them through the door. “Get out of here!” he yelled at the gathered crowd, swinging his arms. “Leave!”

 

The door slammed behind Link as Corny continued shouting outside. Link spun Tracy, putting his hands against her face and angling her head up, forgetting about the spattered blood on his knuckles. She was warm, her cheeks wet and mud spattered. A purple bruise was forming on her wrist, and there was blood dripping down her knees, but other than that she was relatively unscathed. Link’s eyes raked over her body, but he calmed down when her small hands gripped his against her face. “I’m fine, Link,” she whispered, her voice low and soothing.

 

The innocent edge of her tone made Link’s heart break. She had done nothing to deserve this foul hate, and yet she accepted it as commonplace. Looking in her big brown eyes, Link moved into her. He cupped her head in one hand, and brought the other around her back, dragging her body to his. Tracy stilled against him, her breath hitching. Link gripped her tighter, feeling all of her, whole and soft in his arms, and she slumped into him with a breath, leaning her head into his chest and wrapping her arms around his middle. He wound his fingers through her tresses, soothed by the softness and her breath on his chest.

 

“Tracy!” Ms Edna was running over to them, her face glistening, Penny, Inez, and Seaweed in her wake. Link pulled away reluctantly, wrapping his arm around Tracy’s shoulders and gripping as her mother fussed over her daughter despite Tracy’s repeated murmurs of dissent.

 

_iv._

  


“My name’s Tracy Turnblad, I was told there would be a ticket waiting for me?”

 

Link looked through the frosted glass of the window, twisting his signature curl once more, watching it bounce anxiously. In a short breath, Link pulled open the door, the low light doing nothing to diminish Tracy’s beauty. She was stood at the counter, bouncing on her tip toes causing her delicate baby blue skirts to swish at her knees. There was a small shawl cupped between her elbows and she clutched at it with her fingers, playing with the frayed edges. The person behind the window shook his head. “I don’t see nothin,’” he said harshly, looking down condescendingly at Tracy.

 

Link stepped up smoothly despite the nerves twisting in his belly. “Try Link Larkin,” he said sliding up beside Tracy and winking. Tracy smiled, both relieved and surprised. The man behind the counter grumbled, pulling out the two show tickets and handing them over. Holding out his hand, Link asked “Shall we?”

 

Tracy slipped her tiny hand into his, letting him guide her through the foyer and up to the stairs. “I’ve always wanted to see a show,” she said, a little breathless at her surroundings.

 

“Well I’m glad I could arrange it,” he whispered down at her, smiling softly at how wide her eyes were.

 

“Lincoln?”

 

Pausing in his steps, Link’s head shot up, surprise making his spine tingle. He straightened, pausing on the steps as he took in the couple in front of him.

 

“Mother. Father.” Link said harshly.

 

The pair were arm in arm, consternation written all over their faces. The woman’s gloved fingers tightened on the man’s arm, and Link knew her knuckles would be white underneath the satin gloves. His father’s neck was red, a warning sign that he was holding himself together. Despite not seeing them for months, their eyes were not trained on their son, but rather the small woman on his arm. Sensing the tension, Tracy smiled. “Mr and Mrs Larkin, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Tracy.”

 

His parents said nothing, staring down at Tracy much like the people in the mob had. It felt like there was fire in his throat, and he balled his other hand into a fist. After what could only have been a few seconds but felt like hours to Link, his mother looked back at him, her face full of disappointment. “When we heard you had joined this…spectacle, we thought it was only temporary. That you would see what these… _people_ …are like and come back to the real arts. I can see we were mistaken,” she said, turning her head away from Link. It was subtle, but Link felt Tracy try to minimize her presence by pulling his arm closer to her and stepping closer to his side.

 

“I’m perfectly happy where I am, Mother. It was the best decision.”

 

His father made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. “Best decision? You have made a mockery of the Larkin name, boy! Seeing you traipsing around with…with the likes of _that!_ You are no son of mine.”   

 

Link stepped up to his father as Tracy released him and stepped down the stairs. “You do not talk to her like that! If this is what it means to be a Larkin I want no part of your family,” he sneered, lips pulled against his teeth. He grabbed Tracy’s hand and descended the stairs with her, leaving his parents open mouthed behind him.

  


_v._

 

It was late, and Link was just getting around to locking the front doors when he saw the lights lit over the ring. Eyebrows creased, he walked slowly past the stands, searching. At first he saw nothing, but then Tracy flew through the air quickly, several sandbags near him crashing to the ground. Link jumped, surprised, and rattled the stands. Tracy’s head whipped around, and she arched her back, dropping her clothed foot and slowing. She was leaning back, and Link could see her upside down smile, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and he swallowed, smiling back easily. As she dropped from the hoop, her loose shirt was billowing around her, almost hiding her pink shorts. He crossed over to her, easily stepping over the ring, and Tracy walked up to him, her long ponytail loose and disheveled.

 

Despite her earlier smile, Link knew something was bothering her. Now that she wasn’t upside down, he could see that her eyes were dull, her smile strained. She was wringing her hands together, something he learned she only did when she was nervous or anxious.

 

“I didn’t know you were practicing,” Link started.

 

Tracy shrugged, an unusual motion coming from her. “It helps me think, being in the air. It’s freeing.”

 

Link reached out for her, but Tracy deftly avoided his fingers, walking back over to her hoop. Confused, Link walked over to her, gripping the hoop. “What’s a matter, doll?” he asked.

 

“Link…” she started, looking anywhere but at him. “About last night…”  
  


“Trace, don’t even think about it. My parents have always been uptight and narrow minded. Please, don’t let them bother you.”

 

Tracy pulled the hoop from his grip, slipping her legs easily through the center. On the hoop, she was eye level with Link, and he felt warm looking in her eyes. He placed his hands on the hoop at either side of her face, bending close. Her voice was soft, but the words were hard. “It’s not just your parents. I see the way people look at you here, and out there. People like you aren’t meant to be with people like me. You’re supposed to be with someone prettier, skinnier,” she laughed bitterly, “someone not part of a freak show.”

 

Link was taken aback. Had he given her the idea that he cared about all that stuff? Being in show business most of his life, he had felt outside of it all. Every relationship was founded on a desire for him to make them famous, kiss-ups that wanted fortune, not him. He had never felt seen, never felt like a person, until Corny found him, and he found Tracy. How could she not know how amazing she was, flying through the air, catapulting herself around and around, all the time a smile on her face? She lit up every room she entered, loved fiercely, and brought out the absolute best in him.

 

“To _hell_ with everyone else, Trace! I don’t care what they all say, I want _you_.”

 

Arching forward and digging her feet into the sand, Link was forced to move away as Tracy pushed herself away, letting her hoop start spinning. When Link caught it, Tracy had already moved out, her feet digging into the sand. “It’s different out there than in here, Link. It’s so easy here, but out there? The world can be a cruel place. I’m tough, I can handle it; have been for most of my life. But I don’t want you to get hurt, to suffer.”

 

Releasing her hoop, Link caught her arm before she could waltz around him. “I would only be suffering if you pushed me away.” He was looking down at her, her body facing the opposite direction, face staring straight ahead. “No one can say what we get to be.” When she finally looked up at him, Link almost felt his knees buckle. She looked so sad, her face pink and arm lax in his. “So don’t. Don’t push me away.” Tracy raised her arms, and he thought she was going to wrap him up, pull her to him and forget about it all, but she only grabbed the hoop, dancing away from him on the tips of her toes and launching into the air. He heard sandbags drop somewhere as Tracy launched up and spun, her body straight before she swung it into the hoop.

 

From that angle, Link was left breathless, staring up at her as she sailed around the building, her shadow dancing across him. He spun, struggling to keep her in his sights. She kicked at the air, leaning so far back her hair danced in the wind and Link could see the veins in her neck pop. As she slowed, Link could hear her plain as day as she said “You know I want you, I don’t try to hide it. But I can’t be the reason you throw your life away. I’m not the one you were meant to find. It feels impossible.” She landed on her feet as close to him as she dared, and Link swallowed.  

 

“I’m not throwing anything away, Trace. Working here, being with you, it’s an experience I’m thankful for every single day. I feel free away from the theatre, from my family. I can finally be myself.” It was the first time he had admitted it, and he realized it was true. Despite all the disdain he had seen and experienced since becoming Corny’s partner, it was nothing compared to how stuffy and trapped he felt as Famous Lincoln Larkin. “Is it impossible?”

 

Tracy ran around him, jumping into the air and looping her legs around the hoop. In a breath, Link followed, running to catch up and grabbing the hoop without so much as a jolt. Tracy looked down at him as he reached up and grabbed the hoop with both of his hands, dangling. There was a playful smile on her face as she leaned back, placing her legs outside the hoop and pulling herself up. Her legs were wrapped around the rope as she settled on its top, looking down at him. He tried to wiggle up into the hoop, but his body was dead weight in the air. Pulling instead of lifting, Link encouraged the hoop to slow before jumping down. He landed in a crouch, watching as his momentum sent the hoop spinning in a wild arc. Tracy wasn’t fazed, dipping back down into the hoop, upside down. Link stood up, smirking, as he reached out a hand.

 

The hoop collided with his palm, jolting, and Tracy let out a surprised “Oh!” as she fell into his arms, jostled by the sudden stop. She landed on him in a crash, the pair rolling around in the sand. Link let out a huff, his arms full of Tracy, the feel of her skin hot against even his cottons. She was straddling him, her hair having lost the tie that held it back and framing both of their faces. Panting, she had a hold of one of his arms and the other pressed into the sand by his face. His hands gripped her, her back, her thighs, her hips, any place he could grab in the roll.

 

His voice was soft, “I’m not going to hide, Trace. I’m all yours. Let yourself fall into me.” He reached a hand up, pulling at a curl and watching it bounce back. “Say that we’re possible, say that we can change the world to be ours.” His eyes were soft as he looked up at her, the blue sparkling in the spotlight.

 

Tracy’s face broke into a small smile. “Where have you been all my life, Link Larkin?” Link smiled, pulling her face down to his and finally, finally, meeting her lips. They were soft and warm, and they felt like coming home. Pushing himself up, Link wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his body as she softly cradled his face. Spreading his fingers across her hips, Link tried to drink her in, afraid that this moment would flit away like wisps of smoke through his fingers.

 

Tracy pulled back, eyes still closed and breath ghosting over his lips as she whispered “Let’s rewrite the stars,” against him.

 

_vi._

 

Days went by, and Link felt lighter than air. There was only one thing concerning him: the size of the mobs. He and Corny had noticed that they had been growing in size, more people angry that the show was still around, seemingly undaunted by the vitriolic hatred spewed at them. Corny was away, and Link was just seeing the last of the audience out, about to lock the doors, when a handful of men staggered their way towards him.

 

“We’re closed for the night, gentlemen,” Link said, voice hard.

 

“Don’t care about that,” one man said, throwing a bottle to the ground. “We want all y’all outta Baltimore. Sooner rather than later.”

 

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the premises.” Link straightened, pushing his shoulders back and stepping forward.

 

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere until you and your folk do.”

 

With a speed Link had never seen a drunk man possess, a fist connected with his cheek faster than he could fight back. He stumbled back into the door, crashing against the handle. Vision swimming, Link shoved back on to his feet, preparing to fend off more fists when there was a noise behind them.

 

Most of the company had filtered out from behind the curtains, looking for the source of the bang. Ms Edna shouldered her way to the front, eyes squinted at the drunk men.

 

“Ha!” the man in front guffawed. “That lard woman! That beast of a whale! What, you need a fat bearded momma to fight your battles!”

 

Link shot forward, seeing red behind his eyes as he threw out a fist. It connected with the man’s chin and Link felt a satisfying crunch as teeth ground together. In a flash, the company was rushing to them, screaming, fists in the air. There were grunts, shouts, and yelling, but Link could tell that the men were just drunk enough to be outwitted by the company. Several men spit at the crowd, noses bloodied, stumbling towards the door. Tripping into the street, a warm summer air whooshed into the building, and the company pushed the rest of the men out, making them land on their butts.

 

“And don’t come back,” Link said as politely as he could, a smirk on his face and his cheek smarting.

 

The group dispersed, moving back to their respective rooms, small chatter echoing in the empty arena. Link, taking charge in Corny’s absence, went to his office to finish the day’s count. Cheek still throbbing, he locked away the money before climbing into his bed, clothes and shoes still on.

 

When Link woke up, it was late and dark as pitch outside. His nose tickled, and there was a loud jostling around him. Pushing off of the small cot, Link opened his door, only to be greeted by a wall of smoke. Quickly, he pulled his shirt over his nose, eyes watering, as he made his way through the halls and down rickety stairs. Downstairs, there were flames engulfing everything, from the red curtains to the wooden dividers and balconies. Posters were curling off the walls, and Link could smell gas. Clothes on a nearby rack burst into flames, searing Link’s face as he stumbled around the fraying edges of the curtains. In the main part of the building, the beams were creaking, pieces already starting to fall into the stands like stars. Having seen no people on his way out, Link could only assume that everyone had already made it to the streets.

 

The front door was open, smoke filtering out into the night air in wide tunnels. Falling from the steps, Link staggered into the streets, coughing, vision blurry.

 

“Link!” someone yelled, and before he knew it Ms Edna was pulling him up against her and closer to the rest of the company a short distance away from the building. Penny was holding Inez, Seaweed’s arm wrapped around the pair. Everyone was in some sort of disarray, clothes singed and faces red. Link looked around, drinking in the faces as fast as he could. Aside from the troupe, there was a gathered crowd, attracted by the noise from the local bars and small homes. In the distance, he could hear the bells.

 

But someone was missing.

 

“Where’s Tracy?” he asked, voice husky from all the smoke. He stumbled away from Ms Edna, who was shaking her head. Her lips were moving, but Link couldn’t hear any words coming out of her mouth. His heart was racing; he was out here, but Tracy was still inside.

 

“Tracy!” he screamed, running back towards the flames before anyone could stop him. There were loud protests behind him, but he ignored them all, jumping up the steps and rushing into the burning building. The fire was growing, consuming all the wood and fabrics they had stored. Bright flames meant Link could only see so far in front of him, and when he heard a loud crack, he looked up, jumping to the side and narrowly missing a crashing beam. He could feel his pants tear on loose wood, his arm was caught between something, and smoke clogged his lungs. Attempting to stand, Link staggered, dragging his feet against the dirt as his body was wracked with coughs. He couldn’t tell right from left, his head swimming, and he had no idea where he was. “Tracy!” he screaming into the flames, blinking back against the smoke and dizziness.

 

Struggling to get air, Link’s body seized, and he dropped back on to his knees, fists clenched. The last thing he saw before passing out was a purple suit.

_  
_

_vii._

 

The first thing Link noticed when he woke up was pressure on his left side.

 

He cracked his eyes open, feeling stiff. Blinking against the lights, Link grimaced, trying to flex his fingers. Immediately, the pressure on his left lifted, and he could see Tracy’s head bobbing up, her mouth moving hurriedly.

 

“Trace,” Link gasped out, his lips chapped, tongue like sandpaper. Her fingers were cool on his forehead, smoothing back his hair. Turning into her hand, Link saw that her eyes were cloudy with tears.

 

“God, Link why would you do that,” she asked, but she was smiling.

 

“I’d do anything for you, doll.” He coughed, and Tracy held a straw up to his lips. He gulped the cup down in a matter of seconds, his throat raw but thankful for the cool drink.

 

“I ran out as soon as you ran back in,” she explained, running her fingers through is soot covered hair. “My mama had to stop me from running back for you, but luckily Corny showed up. Saved you in the nick of time, too.” She suddenly looked sad, her face shifting from relief to grief. “The whole building is gone,” she started, looking down at Link’s bandaged body. “I haven’t been back yet, but Penny and Seaweed have been visiting.”

 

Link leaned his head to the side, nuzzling into the pillows. “How long have you been here?”

 

Tracy shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a few days. You’ve been out like a light; I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

 

A nurse materialized from behind the curtains, and Tracy released his hand, letting them fuss over him. Link watched as she stepped to the side, her eyes tired and face drawn. He swore, in that moment, he would do everything he could to never see that look on her face again.

 

Not long after being checked over by the nurses and a doctor, he was released. Heavily bandaged, with a black eye, and bruised ribs, Link leaned on Tracy as the pair walked back to the home of the Corny Collins Show. Everyone was outside, sifting through the rubble. From Link’s perspective, it didn’t look like much made it. He settled down beside Corny on the stone steps, the former drinking from a flask and reading a newspaper.

 

“They found the guys who did it,” he said with a heavy sigh, throwing the paper at his feet. “But the bank won’t give me any more money. Looks like we’re out a show, a home.” He ran his hands over his face, rubbing hard against his eyes. Link looked over at Tracy, who was digging on top of a pile with Penny. Pushing aside some bricks, Tracy hefted out her hoop, dented beyond belief, but still, surprisingly, whole.

 

“It’s a good thing I put aside my 10%, then,” Link said, a shadow of a smile playing at his lips.

 

Corny looked at him, awe in his features. “Link, I can’t ask-“

 

“You aren’t asking; I’m offering. On one condition.”

 

Corny shook his head, his face breaking open into a smile. “Name it.”

 

“Stop referring to me as your apprentice. I’m your partner, 50/50.” Link stretched out his hand, and Corny grasped it readily.

 

“50/50,” he agreed, and laughed as the troupe clapped and whooped, Tracy gripping her hoop and laughing as she looked at Link. “ _I love you,”_ she mouthed, and Link felt like the whole world was shining down on them.

**Author's Note:**

> lyrics from 'the other side' and 'rewrite the stars' belong to Justin Paul & Benj Pasek and sony entertainment


End file.
